


29 Neibolt Street

by oldmanjenkins



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet Ending, Drabble, Introspection, Lore - Freeform, M/M, Multi, No Dialogue, Post-Canon, Rumors, Secrets, The House on 28 Neibolt Street (IT), barely, i cri, let them be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 02:00:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21091517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldmanjenkins/pseuds/oldmanjenkins
Summary: Some lore about the house on 29 Neibolt Street and what happened after it mysteriously collapsed years ago.Also about the man who bought the house and sits on it's porch.





	29 Neibolt Street

**Author's Note:**

> I basically got this idea from a tumblr post about what happens to Baby after Sam and Dean die. (idk original post, sorry) Also I've just been super emo about It okay ???

If you live in Derry, Maine there is a single unspoken rule you must follow. It’s a secret that seeps up through the bedrock of the Neibolt-Turner cross street and follows you home, quiet, like a 2am nightmare. You’ll never see it coming, you’ll never remember it in the morning.

Its whispered and well known, a secret passed down from grandparents, to parents, to their children; Not as much a fact, than a feeling; it’s the cold wind in a dark room or the choke of anxiety at a carnival, it’s knowing in your bones that despite the flowers that grow in the Neibolt yard there’s truth in the pain that radiates from that house. You can never put your finger on it, but you feel it, a conditioned response, like a past life, like a distant memory.

That house, the only one rebuilt, and repainted, and taken care of on the desolate corner of Neibolt and Turner, it appears innocent and inviting, with its warm yellow paintjob, and large curtained windows, and beds of sunflowers. Many a brave child has walked up to the house only to be dragged away by their shirt collars.

“It’s not like anyone lives there!”  
“Hush”

Its said, that if you visit on a certain day of the summer you’ll see a man sitting on the porch. A tall, lanky man, in a fancy suit that screams he has no business being in, of all places, Derry, Maine. Just sitting there, eating vanilla ice cream, laughing to himself. The deep crows’ feet around his eyes leaving lasting impressions, the melting ice cream getting into his silver hair when he pushes his glasses back up his large nose with the same hand. He won’t answer you if you call out to him, just wave and go back to laughing.

It’s those days where the house seems just as it should be, not a shell housing a secret, but a place as full of life as you’d think it would have. Even if all of that life is only coming from one man, it’s like he’s radiating the life of the souls said to be lost there. With the summer sun shining through the grass, and the warm wind flowing through the open windows, there’s a peacefulness.

It’s also said, that if you turn back with the sun just right, you will see a younger man doubled over in laughter right there next to him.


End file.
